


London Calling

by bcnedrah



Series: Malec Prompts [6]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, Malec AU, Malec prompt, Meet-Cute, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 10:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11461926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcnedrah/pseuds/bcnedrah
Summary: As a lifelong New Yorker, Alec Lightwood had learned to avoid running on the Brooklyn Bridge anytime after 7:00 AM, when it would become congested with the morning rush of commuters, cyclists, and the early bird tourists. His run was his one constant, as his feet thumped a steady beat against the New York City sidewalks. Well that and Mr. Perfect.





	London Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Lecrit's Malec Jogger AU prompt on Tumblr:
> 
> Alec jogs in the same park every day at 5pm and every day, no matter the weather, he sees the same guy sitting on the same bench by the pond, reading a book, writing on his tablet, talking on the phone. They share a smile every day. When he feels particularly bold, Alec even waves at him, and the man always waves back. He’s very pretty and he seems kind and smart if the books he reads are anything to go by, and Alec is slowly building the courage to ask him out to that cute little coffee shop right next to the park. So when the guy disappears for two weeks, he worries. It happened before that he disappeared for a day or two, but never two whole weeks. When he finally reappears, Alec’s legs work on their own. His body leads him right in front of the stranger and his mouth is opening before he can stop it, “Where the hell were you? I was worried!”

Alec Lightwood exhaled slowly as he eased his leg out of a stretch before switching to his other leg. He was using the stone handrail of the steps in front of his apartment building for balance as he worked through his morning stretches before going for his daily run. A heavy rock beat floated through his headphones, a playlist designed by his sister Izzy, as he contemplated the early morning gray skies. Rolling his shoulders one last time in his sleeveless, faded black hoodie, Alec set off at a light pace for the Brooklyn Bridge.

As a lifelong New Yorker, he had learned to avoid running on the Brooklyn Bridge anytime after 7:00 AM, when it would become congested with the morning rush of commuters, cyclists, and the early bird tourists. While his body had protested at first, Alec now felt weird if he didn’t go for his daily 5:00 AM run. His run was his one constant, as his feet thumped a steady beat against the New York City sidewalks. Well that and Mr. Perfect.

Mr. Perfect seemed to be a creature of habit just like Alec. No matter the weather, barring torrential rain,  Mr. Perfect could be found at his bench on the Brooklyn Bridge every morning reading a book, working on his tablet, or talking on his phone. The first time that Alec saw the man, he had lost all sense of his surroundings as he slowed down in the middle of the bridge, vision narrowing in on the way the morning sun set aglow olive skin and brought out the - what he now knew to be ever-changing - highlights in jet black hair and slanted eyes perfectly lined with an effortless wing. The man was gnawing on his lips as he contemplated a hardback John Grisham novel in his lap. His brocade jacket paired with a low cut tank, a multitude of necklaces, and leather pants may have looked gaudy on anyone else, but him. To Alec however, Mr. Perfect looked, well, perfect.

It was the angry curse of an oncoming cyclist trying to dodge a cupid-struck Alec that caused him to trip over his own two feet. Landing harder than he wished on his hip bone, Alec cringed when he realized the cyclist’s shout had caught Mr. Perfect’s attention, which was now settled in familiar pedestrian concern on Alec. Cursing to himself, Alec pushed on the wood planks of the Brooklyn Bridge, not daring to look behind him as he ran all of the way to the Brooklyn Bridge Park. Once he reached a grove of white cherry blossom trees, Alec collapsed on the grass, elbows resting on knees and head cradled in his hands. He kicked at the dirt, groaning at embarrassing himself in front of such a gorgeous man.

The next day, Alec wished he could crawl into a hole and die when he saw Mr. Perfect sitting on the same bench, chatting away and laughing into his cell phone, gaze drifting over the early morning pedestrians.  When he spotted Alec, Mr. Perfect sent a small nod in his direction, not breaking his conversation with whoever was on the other line of his phone call. Alec returned the nod stiffly, still embarrassed from his spill the day before, but continued on with his run.

And thus began a routine between them. Every morning, Mr. Perfect would wave to Alec as he passed by and every morning Alec would return it. And every morning Alec would inwardly berate himself for not gathering the courage to go talk to him. By the time Alec had made his loop through Brooklyn Bridge Park, Mr. Perfect would be gone from his bench, seemingly satisfied for fulfilling his daily hello before continuing on with his day.

One the one year anniversary of meeting Mr. Perfect - Alec was totally not counting - he had determined that he was going to talk to the man. An actual conversation. A solid “My name is Alec Lightwood. What’s yours?”. He had not practiced a thousand ways to introduce himself in the mirror the night before to back out of it now. But as he approached the crest of the Brooklyn Bridge, he was disappointed to see Mr. Perfect’s bench empty. Slowing down, he looked around to see if he could spot the man in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen. A distant rumble of thunder had Alec glancing at the skyline. A dark gray storm front almost blended in with the darker skies of the early morning sunrise. Shrugging his shoulders, Alec continued on. While a little rain never bothered Alec, he had learned that a man who valued fashion like Mr. Perfect were never out and about when there was a risk of their outfit getting ruined by rain.

Only once the rain had cleared by the next day, Mr. Perfect was still nowhere to be found. At first Alec thought nothing of it. It wasn’t uncommon for something to shake a person’s schedule for a day or two. In his brother Jace’s case, a killer hangover could have him laid out on their apartment couch for an entire day after drinking too much. Those days usually followed a night of drinking with their sister Izzy at Pandemonium, one of the hottest nightclubs in New York according to Izzy. Not that he would know. Alec tended to avoid large crowds of intoxicated people at all cost if he could. Usually when he needed to pick up Jace and Izzy because they were too drunk to move, they were kind enough to wait him outside of Pandemonium. Alec was pretty sure Izzy only went there to hit on one of the bartenders and Jace would follow out of protective older brother instincts - if you counted talking to every pretty girl he saw brotherly instincts.

Smiling to himself, Alec shook his head fondly at his siblings’ antics as he neared the Brooklyn Bridge. However, unlike his siblings, Mr. Perfect hadn’t bounced back after his missed day. One day turned into two and two into a week, and now Alec was nearing two weeks without having seen Mr. Perfect. Alec had been worried at first that something had happened to him, thoughts of hospitals and other horrific accidents floated through his head. But as the days drew out longer and longer, Alec had to come to the slow realization that Mr. Perfect had moved on with his life and that he had missed his chance.

As he came over the over the crest of the Brooklyn Bridge, Alec had to shake sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes as he made his way around other pedestrians. A blur of shadow out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. There sitting on his bench was Mr. Perfect, dressed in a black and white polka dotted dress shirt and elaborate waist coat, tucked into dark brown slacks reading a red hardbound book. Alec barely registered weaving his way between other pedestrians as he ran to the bench. Skidding to a stop in front of Mr. Perfect, hands resting on knees as he caught his breath and ripped his ear buds out, all Alec could do was glare at the man who was now looking at him in slight shock at his sudden appearance.  

“Where the hell were you? I was worried!” Alec demanded of the man, breath still heaving from his run.

Hazel eyes, flashing somewhere between gold and green in the early morning sunlight and taking Alec’s breath away, stared up at him in shock before arching an eyebrow in curiosity. Closing his book and using his finger as a bookmark, Mr. Perfect stared at Alec, contemplating the man in front of him. Alec straightened as he registered the verbal vomit that had just flown out of his mouth.

“I...I...I-,” Alec stuttered, body beginning to turn, to quite literally run away from the situation.

The man’s hand flew out to snatch Alec’s wrist, causing him turning back to look at him. The man was staring at his hand, as if it had betrayed him and moved on its own. A slow, charming smile made its way across Mr. Perfect’s lips before looking back up at Alec.

“And who are _you_?”  

Alec opened his mouth to give what would surely be another stuttered reply, but was interrupted by the opening bars of The Clash’s “London Calling” coming from the man’s pants pocket. Not letting go of Alec’s hand or eye contact, Mr. Perfect released his finger from where it was holding his spot in the book and dug his phone out of his pocket. Not glancing at the caller id, ha answered the call quickly and answered bluntly. “Tessa, I’m going to have to call you back.” His eyes moved over Alec’s body. “Something came up. Give my best to Jem and Will.”

He ended the call and tossed the phone on top of the book next to him, bringing his hand up to clasp Alec’s hand in a firm handshake, letting the ring-laden fingers of his other hand trail from Alec’s wrist to the back of his hand before falling away. “I’m Magnus Bane,” Mr. Perf- Magnus introduced himself in a velvety smooth voice. “And you are?”

“Alexander- I mean Alec,” Alec stumbled over his name, shaking his head. “Alec Lightwood.”

“Alexander?” Alec swore that Magnus practically purred his name as he leaned closer, his long fingers stroking at the inside of his wrist. “Like our dear Dumas?”

Alec had to let Magnus’ comment swirl around his head a couple of times. “Uh, Du-, Dumas?”

“Hmm, Alexandre Dumas.” Magnus released Alec’s hand with a slight squeeze and waved to the book next to him with a flounce of his hand, where in gold script against the red background of the cover, the title of _The Complete Works of Alexandre Dumas_ stared back at him.

Alec licked his lips and swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Oh. Um, just Alec is fine.”

“I don’t think so, Alexander, darling,” Magnus huffed, a sly grin making its way across his face. Magnus began gathering his things and stood up, crowding in close to Alec. Alec was pleasantly surprised to find that the top of Magnus’ head was about level with his eyes as very few people could match Alec’s 6’ 3” height. Realizing Magnus had begun talking, Alec tuned back into the conversation. “...and there’s a very lovely, little café just the left of the bridge that offers the best coffee this side of Italy. Would you care to join me?”

Alec couldn’t have stopped the grin splitting his face in two even if he could have tried. “Yes!”

Magnus chuckled at Alec’s enthusiastic reply before waving for him to lead them to merge with the traffic of the morning commuters. As the two of them fell into a companionable pace, Alec turned to Magnus. “You never did answer my question. Where have you been for the past couple of weeks?”

Magnus shook his phone as an answer. “London, darling. I own a nightclub near here that has a sister club in London. I was meeting my business partner, Tessa Gray, to discuss plans for both clubs in the upcoming year.”

“If you own a nightclub, you would be my sister, Izzy’s new best friend,” Alec mused aloud. Magnus’ hand gripped Alec’s bicep tightly, pulling Alec to a stop.

“You said your last name was Lightwood?” Magnus asked, staring blankly ahead as he worked out a problem inside his head.  “And your sister’s name is Izzy? As in short for Isabelle Lightwood?”

Alec nodded, brow furrowed at Magnus’ train of thought. “Yes…”

Magnus hissed something in a foreign language between his teeth before taking in Alec’s brotherly concern in his face and quickly tensing muscles underneath his hand. Sighing, Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I own the nightclub, Pandemonium.”

A slow dawning of realization came over Alec’s face, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as the other pointed between the two of them. Alec groaned as the full realization of who was standing in front of him hit him. Groaning, he covered his face in both hands before scrubbing them through his hair. “If you know Izzy, then you’ve dealt with Jace. Drunk.”

Magnus had to laugh at the obvious lament on Alec’s face. He was quite aware of Jace’s drunken antics - some of which were Pandemonium lore by this point. “How about this? You buy me a coffee for every time they’ve received a free drink at my club and we’ll call it even?”

Alec glared through his fingers at “Mr. Perfect”, who’s eyes were filled with glee at Alec’s predicament. “I’d owe a free coffee every day for an entire year.”

“Well then,” Magnus said, patting Alec’s chest before continuing on his way to the coffee shop, “You’d best get started then!”

Alec shook his head at the audacity of the man sauntering away from him. With a grin, Alec ran to catch up with Magnus, having to brace an arm across the man’s back as he slowed down next to him. When Magnus’s arm came up to wrap around his waist to steady him with a smile, Alec couldn’t help but think Magnus Bane might be Mr. Perfect For Him after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr [@bcnedrah](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bcnedrah)


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